Mad World
by fiftyshadesofdevingray
Summary: "She was the strength he craved, the air he breathed, the person he wanted to be."


** "Mad World"**

**Summary: "She was the strength he craved, the air he breathed, the person he wished he could be"**

**Disclaimer: I do not own American Horror Story or Mad World.**

**A/N: Just a little story about Tate finding out about his sister's death.**

**To one of my best friends in the world, Silvia, on her special day 5 That and this is her idea and she is actually writing a similar piece.**

_**Tate- 1983**_

_His house is always in constant motion, constant noise that disrupt his daily activity. Whether it's his parents constant fighting, the sounds that Adelaide makes unintentionally, her mumbles, her loud clumsy footsteps. _

_Tonight on this particular night, it was banging from the basement above, Tate lay in bed clad in his batman pajamas, his favorites; his stuffed humming parrot tucked. He knew he shouldn't have been scared; it was just his mother trying to put his brother to bed but the noises, the howling, the rattling of chains. Most little boys would have cried for their mother, but he knew better._

_His bedroom door creaked open and a stream of light illuminated against the oak floor. Tate felt his chest tighten, hoping that it wasn't one of his mother's flings, the kind she kept while she was out of town. The kind that sometimes crept into his room at the dark hours of the night, the kind that did things to him, things that when he told his mother she wouldn't believe him. Tate shook his head brushing off the thoughts of the strange hands on him._

_The footsteps that trailed forward, were clunky not loud like a grown man's but clumsy. He sat up quickly, holding the stuffed parrot tightly to his chest. Addie stumbled in, clad in her crisp white nightgown, Tate exhaled quickly; he was safe at least for now._

"_Addie" he whispered, hoarsely._

_Addie put finger to her lips, telling the young boy to quiet down, even with her "difference" as their mother put it knew not to make too much noise. She crept closer to the bed and pulled the covers down; she slid in next to him. Her presence is comforting, because she is his older sister and there to protect him the way he does for her from bullies on the walk home from school. It's a known camaraderie, two people that knew that horrors that this home held. Not just its past but their present, both of them just lying there, trying to hide from the world in plain view._

_**Present**_

Tate sits cross legged on Dr. Harmon's couch, he taps his knee rhythmically as he try to ease the sentence out. Ben who has been staring at him for the past ten minutes starts to sprout an impatient look on his face. Which uncommon for Ben, unless Tate is pushing his nerves that day, today must have been one of those days but Tate didn't take pride in it. He felt stupid not even being able to talk to Dr. Harmon.

Ben sighs deeply. "Tate, a thought, a memory, anything you can tell me," he insists.

Tate swallows harshly. "When I was little I was afraid of mirrors," he admitted.

Ben knits his eyebrows. "You can tell me more about that during our next session," he nods down at his watch.

Tate stands up quickly, relieved that he doesn't have to reveal anymore. "I will see you Thursday, Dr. Harmon," he says, hurriedly.

**Later**

Tate stays hidden in the darkest corner of the basement until he is sure that the elder Harmons are gone. He feels that it is safe enough for him to go upstairs, slip into Violet's bedroom and just wait for her until she got home from school. He slipped out of the basement but didn't make it far before he stopped in the kitchen.

No, he wasn't there to get an afternoon snack that most boys his age craved, or to see Moira and admire. He wasn't Dr. Harmon. He wanted to see Addie, she usually came to see him before or after his sessions. She hadn't been there in weeks, he hadn't actually seen her since Halloween when he had walked to the store to get the rose and black paint. He had brushed her off, saying he would catch her on the way back; he of course never did. Now he was starting to regret it, a strange sense of worry gathering in his throat.

Only Moira was in the kitchen washing dishes, he would admit that she was nice to look at but she had a strange hatred. He walked over to the island, he cleared his throat roughly trying to get the woman's attention. She huffed, dropped the dish into the soapy water and turned on her heel; her facial expression was clearly not amused, inpatient as if she actually wanted to get back to washing dishes.

"Moira," he asked, gently, "have you seen-"

Moira quirked an eyebrow, "Really?" she said snidely "your little girlfriend isn't here, like most normal kids she is at school."

Tate pressed his palms into the countertop trying to remain calm. " No, I am talking about Addie," he admitted, evenly.

The woman frowns. "Look, it's kind of pathetic that you still don't know," she sighs, exasperatedly, "I know you're psycho but not stupid, even if your Mom didn't tell you I thought you would have caught on."

Tate bunches his hands into fists, he gets this way anytime that cocksucker is brought up. "Tell me what?" he growled.

"I am sorry, Tate, Adelaide was killed," she explained, tritely.

Tate stumbled backwards a bit, his heart pounding with emotion, something he wasn't used to. He ran his hands through his hair, tugged at it, not caring if he yanked some of it out or not. He didn't know what to do or how to react so he started to run.

He liked to run, it had always been so freeing for him. It was one of the few things that had been enjoyable to him. It had been the only thing that he liked in high school He ran through the foyer, and out past porch and into the front yard when he stopped before his foot could hit the sidewalk, he didn't know what was stopping him. He just knew he had to stop,

He dropped to his knees right there in the front of the house, he cried for her. He never cried for anybody, he just sat there rocking back and forth in front of the house. He must have looked like a giant psycho, but since when did he care? Besides this was the home of the psychiatrist, people would just think he was a rogue patient, which technically he was.

"Tate?" a gentle voice, followed by a gentle hand on his shoulder, "what happened?"

Tate looked up, to see Violet standing over him; her school bag draped over her shoulder and a cigarette hanging out of her mouth. Her hair pulled back and a black eye starting to form under the pale skin of her deep eyes. He wanted to pounce, he wanted to kill somebody whoever did that to her. He could feel himself back peddling down the rabbit hole.

Tate stood up quickly, the blood rushing to his head. "What happened?" he asked, monotonously; he rubbed his finger over the bruise.

Violet takes the cigarette out of her mouth and stomps it out. "Just some shitheads from school, jumped me," she explains, with a shrug.

"I can take care of them for you."

"I can take care of myself."

_**1988**_

"_Retard, retard, retard."_

_It's like a mantra, the one that usually greets Tate as he gets off the bus. He undoes the top buttons of his shirt, crisp and white, the kind his mother makes him wear for school. She wants them to have a look of class, but he just gets beat up. _

_He walks closer to a boy, he is older than him yet still younger than Adelaide who is now fifteen. The boy must be about ten, still intimidating enough to Tate, but he urges closer with fire flowing through his before he can get to her the boy is knocked down, straight on his ass and in tears._

_Adelaide had pushed him, with less emotion than Tate which was saying a lot. A smile covers her lips, even though Tate knows the aftermath will be bad, but he envies it. She was able to stand up to him no matter what their mother said. She was a pillar of strength in eyes, able to take down anybody._

_**Later**_

_She's screaming, the only thing to scare her is her own reflection, they have that in common. He can't bear to look at himself in the mirror, they look nothing alike. He's quote on quote, "god's gift " in the look's department, physically remarkable, but all he sees his a scrawny boy with blonde curls and deep brow eyes. Nothing special, nothing really different; the only thing that is really different is the color of their hair. He sees nothing wrong with her, just two kids terrified of their reflection. Addie is scared because she is different from everybody, and Tate because he is different from Addie from all his siblings really. _

_Their mother knows this, and takes to locking them in a closet filled with mirror. Tate knows she gets a kick out of hearing the children's blood curdling screams, then she soon grows tired of the screams or at least Tate does._

_He walks into the kitchen where his mother has tea brewed, and is smoking a cigarette. She looks down at the boy and smiles, usually a mother smiling at her young son is comforting but something about his mother's smile rubs him the wrong way._

_Constance blows a puff of smoke at him causing his nose to wrinkle. "How is my perfect boy?" she croons, overly sweet with her southern drawl. _

_Addie's screams are still ringing through the house, or maybe just in his head. "Mommy-"he starts. "Can I let Addie out?" he asks, timidly._

"_No," she spits, "you let her out and you will be next, boy."_

_He doesn't say anything, he just backs away. Too afraid, too weak to stand up to the woman._

**Later**

Violet smells sweet, like sandalwood and strawberries, it's soothing in his state. They lay on her bed, not spooning but towards each other, chest to chest, his head his buried in her shoulder. Violet rubs light circles on his back, the rise and fall of her chest is soothing.

He was angry with her at first, and he still is; she had told him that she had known for a while that Addie was gone. He would have ran away, but she was his pillar, she was strength he didn't have.

Tate snuggles deeper into her shoulder. "I am sorry," he apologizes

Violet runs a hand through his messy curls. "No, I am sorry," she whispers. "I shouldn't have kept it from you."

Tate pulls her closer, it's almost as if she's inside him now; keeping him going.. "I am a horrible brother," he says, breaking into another jag of sobs.

Violets hands massage his scalp gently. "No you're not," she croons, it's not sweet but simple and soothing. "You couldn't stop this, it was an accident that you had nothing to do with."

"It was the cocksucker's fault, " he sobs, " I left her with her, I don't know how she survived that long."

"Because she was strong," she responds, quietly. "So, so strong."

Tate looks into her eyes; they're calm, not hostile like they can be at times. "I wish I was that strong," Tate admits, breathily. "Like you.",

She doesn't disagree with him, just pulls him closer. "In the end your strength is all you have," Violet sighs. "It's all we have in this mad , mad world."

In calms him, her words calm him, they're profound almost too profound. It might the place, back in a bed being comforted by a strong girl. It's different now though, Addie used to be the strength he craved, the air he breathed, the person he wanted to be. Now he had somebody else, it was almost as if the universe knew and let him know in the most cruel way possible.

**A/N: So tired, Review?**


End file.
